Less than Classified
by LoliTurk
Summary: Sequel to For Your Eyes Only. Tim is released from the asylum and still wants to be a part of Jason's life. Strange things are happening over the city and some believe Tim's the cause. Has he finally lost it or are they just pawns in a new villain's game? JayTim Other pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Jason had gotten a call from Dick moments ago and was already speeding towards the scene. It had been three years since he rejoined their little family and it was still strange being on speaking terms with people he tried to murder. It had been three years since the tragedy.

"_The tragedy" _He repeated, quoting the others. Even after all the time that's passed since then no one liked talking about it. It was referred to with gestures and pained looks or other dodgy words. He hasn't seen Tim since the arrest.

The teen used to send him cards on his birthday and holidays, but that petered off when Jason never responded. Instead the cards would go into a little box or into the trash without ever being opened. He didn't want to know. It wasn't out of denial, repression, or anything like that, he had simply moved on with his life and wanted to put the past behind him.

The drive took longer than it needed to because of malfunctioning traffic lights. The city board of directors had been planning a massive renovation of the city's electrical system for months. Gotham's wires and other junk hadn't been updated since WW1 and needed it desperately. Luckily thanks to a few fundraisers and a sizable donation from the lesser Wayne corps foundations they could get to work immediately.

The process started a few weeks ago and they've been having periodic blackouts ever since. Not large ones, mind you, they lasted less than ten minutes but it was still enough to annoy the citizens and the occasional masked vigilante.

By the time the Red Hood got there, the cops were already hauling some poor fuck into the back of a squad car. Nightwing was on a roof waiting for him to show up. "Why'd you call me if you had everything covered?" Jason yelled up to man in blue pajamas.

Dick looked far too serious and motioned for them to talk in private. The roof was a little cooler than the street, then again it's summer and they're wearing Kevlar. Dick crossed his arms over his chest, looking sympathetic "Have you decided what you're going to do this Saturday?"

Jason was confused. _Saturday?_ He questioned, trying to think of anything going on that day. There was a Raiders game, he mused, but he didn't give a fuck about sports.

"I was thinking of doing something in the beer-and-pizza family, maybe get some strippers later. Why do you ask?" He responded, leaning far too casually on a nearby pipe. He was more apt to be a smartass than admit he didn't know.

His older brother frowned obviously bothered by jokes at a time like this. Even Jason was getting a little nervous at this point. For someone usually so cheerful to be so upset, it had to be something awful. He went through a mental list of people that might have died. The younger of the two didn't want to lose his family again.

Dick sighed deeply before explaining without even a _hint_ of a smile "Tim's getting out of Greenvale in a few days and we're going to have a welcome-home dinner. His therapist mentioned it would help him get some closure if you attended."

Jason pulled away like the mere questioned burned and his eyes narrowed in anger "Oh hell no, if you think I'm going to spend a minute next to him after everything-!"

His brother stopped him before he could finish and held onto his arm so he couldn't leave. Blue eyes softened behind the mask as he tried to be as calming as possible. "It was an uphill struggle for everyone, and he's paid his debt to society. The doctors say he's cured now." He said soothingly.

Jason yanked his arm free and growled, "So do the ones at Arkham and look how well that turns out."

Nightwing shook his head, saying "Greenvale is nothing like Arkham, they actually try to help people." His younger brother turned to leave and Dick took his hand. "I'm not going to force you to go if you're serious, but I think might help both of you."

They looked at each other for a moment, waiting and thinking. Dick still had Jason's hand between his own. Smooth lycra shone against rough leather gloves. "…Fine, I'll go. But I'm leaving after dessert." Nightwing smiled brightly and pulled him in for a tight hug.

Jason didn't hug back and just stood there like a child resigned to his fate. Trying to fight the affectionate former Robin's hugs was like trying to stop the sun from rising. Resistance was futile. "There better be pie." He fumed a little and tried to squirm out of his grip. "Now stop that before I get your cooties"

Nightwing let go, unhurt by his words. He knew how nice Jason was deep-down, even if he didn't like to show it.

…

Saturday came by very quickly and Alfred was sent out to pick him up at the bus-stop. The elderly man carried the lone suitcase and Tim's crutches clicked as he walked. His crawled with emotions as he walked through the doors of what was once his home. Disappointment and guilt ate away at him from the inside.

Alfred was kind, but wary. He limited conversation to the teen's schooling was glad to hear that he was doing well at college, he even had an internship at STAR Labs crunching numbers.

Dick was there to greet him at the door and was the warmest to him. His youngest brother had returned, hopefully safe and whole. He led Tim through the house and filled him in on family news. Conversation was kept light to avoid anything 'triggering'. The teen spared a glance to see _him _by the fireplace.

What words do you use to describe someone that held your soul in the palm of his hand? _He _leaned there at the corner of his eye with his back to the wallpaper. Tim felt weak and naked when Jason looked at him, flinching under the scrutiny. There was a small pain in his chest that he didn't think would ever go away. He was like a recovered alcoholic, the need was still there but he learned how to control it.

This was an inevitable confrontation and neither wanted to make the first move. Jason poured himself a stiff drink knowing that this was going to be a long night.

The meal was wonderful, as Alfred's cooking usually is. Jason finally got his beloved apple pie and noticed that the teen's suitcase was still in the hall. "You're not staying?" He asked, watching the teen tense at being spoken to.

"There's no way I could live here after what happened. I have my own place on the other side of town." Tim said quickly like he had grown unaccustomed to talking. The teen seemed even smaller and weaker than before. He was still just a boy in Jason's eyes, despite the fact he was now nineteen.

The teen shifted in his seat and glanced over at the others. They were closest to alone they could get, and he was afraid of what might happen. Three years went by with nothing; not a visit, letter, or even a phone-call.

Now that he was within arm's reach, Tim was a little drunk on memories. "Jason…We never really had the chance to talk after what happened." The boy has never been one to shout, but his voice was barely above a whisper. "It's something I'll regret for the rest of my life."

The older man didn't know what to say to that. Wounds he assumed were healed began to ebb open. "You…You seem to be doing well. Going to school and getting good grades, you're a science major right?"

Before the boy could reply, Dick Grayson sat down between them and started talking about something. Tim frowned at being interrupted, and Jason took it as a blessing in disguise.

…

Tim was smart enough to fake his way out of anything and the Red Hood spent the next week doing surveillance. He watched the teen's every move and was bored out of his mind watching a depressed college student. The boy didn't _do_ anything. Tim went to school, did homework, went to work, did that, and then went to bed.

Not once did Jason see him smile. The boy didn't have friends and didn't talk to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. He was sane but unhappy.

Jason couldn't find any cameras or surveillance gear anywhere in the dinky apartment. The teen's cell-phone was such an old model that it couldn't even take pictures. It was a far cry from the toys the technophile used to have.

Tim lies awake on his bed and stared at the ceiling, unmoving and overmedicated. For reasons the older man could only guess, the teen started to cry.

Jason couldn't stand to hear the choked sobs and decided the boy was better left alone. He didn't return to watch him anymore.

…

Class ran late the next day and Tim missed the bus. Walking home was difficult if you couldn't, well…_walk. _His knee didn't hurt too much anymore and healed as well as it could, given the circumstances. It was getting late and the teen didn't like how this one group kept looking at him.

If he was still Robin, he could have taken these guys in an instant. Now he couldn't do much else than hope nothing happened.

It didn't take long for him to get knocked down and thrown into the back of a van.


	2. Chapter 2

Jason wasn't the only person keeping an eye on Tim.

Oracle called them the moment she found out something was wrong. She recognized some of the men's faces from Batman's files and was horrified by what she found. They were slavers.

Kidnap victims had a 48-hour window of rescue and after that, chances of survival dropped exponentially. Even if by some miracle he was still alive, he wouldn't be in one piece.

…

After the incident, Dick had sort-of become Jason's self-appointed cheerleader. He stayed close by to help his younger brother heal and in turn, it mended the anger between them.

However there was still the usual familial teasing as Jason was currently poking fun of his brother's menu choices. "You eat the weirdest things." He said.

The older of the two raised an eyebrow at the offhand comment and replied with a hint of condescension "…Says the man putting buffalo sauce on sushi."

"At least it's _food_. I'm not the one eating someone's lawn." Jason gestured to the vegetarian abomination his sibling was eating, not to mention the orange-carrot shake.

Dick shrugged, finding the whole discussion pointless. "People have been eating dandelion greens for hundreds of years."

"And then they immediately got taken over by a civilization that ate red meat." The younger man turned to flag down a waiter "That's it, I'm ordering you a double-bacon cheeseburger."

"Jason-!" He cried out in irritation.

"Fine, I'll tell them to put guacamole on it."

Dick's phone started to ring and he was grateful for the distraction. His face fell when he heard the news. "I have to go."

"What is it?"

The older man reached for his coat and left some money on the table. "Someone's been kidnapped"

Jason's face brightened a little, he was getting bored hunting down the usual bank-robbers. Red Hood needed a good workout and he offered "I've got my gear in the car, I'll come with." He admitted that he wasn't the bleeding heart Dick was, but search-and-rescue was a still pretty mundane mission.

Nightwing leaned in so the other patrons couldn't hear, "Tim was the one that was kidnapped."

…

Oracle managed to track down a license plate number and presented them with what little she could find out. "No one has stepped forward with ransom demands. So, it's unlikely that he was specifically targeted."

Red Hood was watching the screens intently while polished fiberglass his expression. His whole body was tense. Barbara and Dick didn't need to say their suspicions out loud. _"He has the means and the motive."_ She said silently.

Nightwing shook his head. _"Jason wouldn't be that cruel." _

"_And what he did to Tim wasn't?"_

"Any idea where they might have taken him?" Dick asked, changing the subject and trying to keep this strictly professional. He was avoiding conflict and it was one of the reasons it didn't work out between the two of them. Nightwing didn't want Jason involved, but he didn't have much choice.

With a push of a button she brought up the security video and modified it to focus on one particular culprit. "One of the assailants was a former member of Penguin's gang…" She took the liberty of omitting that he was discharged from service because of his violent behavior and continued, "…He ended up leaving to start his own version of the Iceberg lounge."

Red Hood nodded and turned to leave, beckoning his brother to follow. "So that's where we start, let's go." He stopped when saw that Dick wasn't moving.

"I think you should sit this one out." He said sympathetically.

"You think I did this?" Jason cried out as more of a statement than a question and old resentment started to flow again. _You trust me just enough to make me think that I have a shot._ "You think I did this." He repeated, growing angrier with each passing moment.

Dick put his hands on his hips, saying "I didn't mean it like that."A deep sigh escaped his chest as he tried to explain. "If it wasn't Tim we're talking about, I'd have you with me in a heartbeat." And he meant that completely.

It was a hard pill for Jason to swallow, and he did his best to reign in his emotions as he talked. "What happened between me and Tim is ancient history. I've said my peace and it doesn't mean anything anymore."

Nightwing knew it was a lie, and if anything it's gotten worse with Tim coming back. He could bring up any number of late-night phone calls that proved it. Jason had confided in him and shown him how deeply the scars truly were. For him, showing weakness was tantamount to suicide and Dick promised not to tell anyone. He agreed to let him come with.

"You can't be serious!" Barbara shouted in disbelief, she thought he was smarter than that.

He clicked on a set of electrified knuckles and promised with a smile "I'll keep an eye on them."

…

Jason kicked down the door with guns blazing. The place stunk of sex and a sweet perfume that burned his nose. It was a strange kind of brothel that reveled in pain and the sinister. Sterile blades were offered like candy and johns hid their faces behind gas masks.

A thick man was waiting for them, they recognized him from the tape. Dinozi Frescitta was flanked by beautiful women that were painted to glow in the dim light. They poured drinks for him and the two heroes, they were wearing small patches like smokers trying to quit.

"Red Hood and Nightwing, such esteemed guests!" Dinozi greeted them with open arms. "Please drink, _socialize, _I always honor those who cut down my competition."

The man made their skin crawl and Dick made note of the bodyguard behind him. A strong man built like a fighter and dressed like a gimp, complete with latex mask.

Jason stepped forward and his brother stopped him. "We're looking for someone you kidnapped earlier today: a nineteen year old male with black hair and blue eyes. He has a scar on his right knee." Dick said curtly, wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

The Italian gave a sleazy grin, saying "You want fresh meat? _Very_ expensive"

Red Hood reacted in an instant, grapping the fat man and slamming him against the wall. He hated those who prayed on the weak, profiting from other people's suffering. "We're not your like the scumbags you call customers. Now hand the boy over before I burn this dump to the ground with you in it." He threatened and unhooked a grenade from his belt.

"Third floor, red door" The bodyguard stated without turning his head to vigilantes, strange how he didn't move a muscle to save his boss.

"Should we believe the gimp?" Jason asked dropping Dinozi on the floor.

"Not much choice I'm afraid" Nightwing went to the stairs and the bodyguard blocked his path. Dark lenses glinted in the light and he wondered how well the man could breathe in that outfit. "Red Hood will go alone." The guard corrected in the same monotone as before.

"Why?"

He shook his head. "I do not question my master."

Dick looked over at the Italian pig, and back to the guard. _It's sure as hell not him. _"You go on without me, it shouldn't take that long." He had to show Jason how much he trusted him.

The younger man nodded and made his way through the door.

…

A mirror was cracked and splattered with red from a bouncer that was foolish enough to stand in his way. The former Robin found a staircase dusted with glitter. The perfume stench was stronger the higher he went.

An engraved motto on the wall read "I only wanted to be loved_._" Jason didn't notice as he was too distracted by how the hallway grew more twisted the farther he ventured. It must have been built like a funhouse.

The rooms were named and themed, one for every taste and price. One door was a faded red and the name crawled away before he could read it. This had to be the right room.

Inside bloodstains dotted the carpet and reminded the man of old bed sheets he used to have. Toys were scattered around the room. They looked like they were intended to hurt and humiliate more than please.

A mirrored ceiling copied his every move and silver handcuffs shone against the gold-colored bars of the bed. Jason's skin grew warm like he drunk and he shed his signature jacket.

Tim's hands were bound above his head and a dark blindfold kept him from seeing his buyer. An auction would decide who would get the honor of breaking him in and the teen was already dressed for the occasion.

It was a sight the man would have longed for.

High rhinestone-dotted heels winked at him and Jason pulled off a glove with his teeth. He ran his bare hand up laced stockings that ended at mid-thigh. The material was translucent and pearly-white. A corset that was lined with more rhinestones was cinched up tight and tight silk hid the place between his legs. Everything was a pristine white, giving the boy the appearance of a sacrificial bride.

He wanted to feel those heels press against his back.

The boy shivered of fear and drew his legs to his chest for what little protection it gave. "Don't…" He warned, but there was no strength behind his words. Jason grabbed his knees, pushing his legs apart for a better look.

_You didn't mind it before._

The devil on his shoulder whispered that the boy was legal now and that he didn't have to worry anymore. Jason curled a corset-string around his finger and pulled it tighter. He deserved it, he told himself. After everything that's happened, the boy had to owe him _something_.

A madman's grin cut into his face. Jason could kill, maim, and do anything else he wanted because who would know? The corpse could be blamed on any one of the freaks in the brothel.

The bed creaked with the added weight. He would take what he was promised.

There was joy in the act of tearing off the blindfold. He crushed their mouths together and bit his neck when the teen refused him. Jason wanted his former abuser to die in agony knowing it was him. There was a hard slap across Tim's face.

The bitch was going to die.

His hands jumped up to clasp around a thin throat, determined to crush his windpipe.

Voices in his head urged him on, _"Hurt him! Take him!" _they cried. Masks freaks were laughing at him from the audience. Gloved hands tore at their clothes and forced Tim down onto the stage. Some offered suggestions for what to do with his corpse.

Blue eyes welled with tears as he feebly tried to talk. _"Jay…"_ He wheezed. Tim struggled and fought the restraints, body arching in pain.

He was wearing a patch too.

In a rare moment of clarity Jason realized it was the antidote. No wonder they gave Tim up so easily, the perfume was poison!

The rational remnant of his mind took over long enough to jam an auto-needle into his thigh. The medicine hit his bloodstream and slowed the toxin's rampage, giving him back some semblance of sanity. He was still for a while, letting the minutes pass as the hate and anger bled out of him. Hallucinations faded from his mind. The teen was breathing hard, but not from the lack of air.

Red Hood unlocked his handcuffs and the teen shushed him when he tried to apologize. Tim's gloves felt cool against his flushed skin. "Don't worry about it." He said soothingly like it was nothing more than a nightmare. He was dismissing his well-being like the older man had seen him do so many times before.

Jason swallowed a lump in his throat and green eyes turned to bruises marring a pale neck. For the first time in a long while, he was afraid. What would his family say if they saw them like this? He had just tried to murder the boy and worse, he didn't want to lose the second chance he was given.

They had to get out of there first.

The older man wrapped a sheet around Tim's shoulders, to spare himself another minute of seeing the teen dressed like that. It hurt him in ways the poison couldn't touch. The teen wrapped his arms around his one-time boyfriend's neck as he was picked up and carried out the door.

He wasn't the cheerful boy that Jason knew was too good to be true, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this was the real Tim, hidden behind the lies and desperate need to please.

The teen blushed faintly, feeling safe in Jason's strong arms. He saw the boy smile for the first time since he came home.

Maybe…

Maybe he's okay now.

…

Downstairs the brothel was trashed.

Bottles were broken, furniture was smashed, and everyone that Nightwing could catch was arrested. That may or may not have included a very suspicious-looking couch. "Looks like we missed one hell of a fight" Jason smirked, still carrying the teen.

"You don't know the half of it. The guard was a meta-human he as strong as an ox, I didn't manage to catch him." Dick seemed glum about his failure but was happy the two of them were okay. He discovered the toxin minutes after Jason left so it never had the chance to affect him. He noticed the bruises and asked what happened.

Tim explained how he was kidnapped and that it was the boss that tried to strangle him. The teen protected him without even thinking about it.


	3. Chapter 3

Jason had spent the night awake, furiously pacing the batcave. His arm ached from needles and he sent another blood sample into the computer. The machine clicked and whirred at the sample, processing it at a furious pace. He had already been given an antidote for the club's toxin but he had to make sure. Being drugged before had made him paranoid, vulnerable to this sort of thing. It was hard to even take aspirin without fearing it was something else.

A part of him couldn't decide whether or not he was lucky that they didn't notice that he spat out his pain medication. The pain gave him a odd kind of peace.

The machine came back with nothing but good news: a full recovery with no lingering side effects. He set the data down and slumped down into a chair. He groaned as his head fell into his hands. Fatigue ached in every muscle. Dick would say something about a good night's sleep and help him into bed, but Jason didn't care anymore.

Even if the toxin was no longer attacking his blood-stream, the memory was still wreaking havoc in his head.

The former Robin could recall dreams so close he could taste them. He had wanted to murder Tim. Not killing in the sense of revenge or other retributions, but to break him. There was a desire to splinter him apart in torturous agony until the teen's mind snapped like so many matchsticks. It was one obsession to hide another.

He missed Tim and the man was reminded of this in every waking moment. It was a stupid, reckless thought to think that the options were to have him or kill him.

Slowly, green eyes traced up the cave's grey walls to a security camera tucked amidst the rock. There had been times when in his delusions he had heard the minuscule gears grind just barely enough to track his movements. He had been startled before and has since chalked it up to an over-worked mind.

Sleep sang to him as he approached the device with fearful scrutiny, searching for any hint of its possible master. Jason had grown so accustomed to the unseen electronic eyes that he could feel their absence. It was an awful kind of loneliness. Sometimes he would watch the camera in the cave, hoping for something he shouldn't.

He had dated since Tim's arrest, but they were all short beige-colored romances. A formality more than anything else. He hadn't felt anything for any of them and could hardly recall their names. It wasn't the same.

The camera watched him back with a cool acceptance, neither blinking nor flinching. It was unlike the worried looks or suspicious sneers he had seen so much of lately. He had been happier with Tim than he was with anyone else.

Months into his self-imposed isolation, the teen's letters had stopped coming. His first thought was that the boy had succeeded in taking his own life. In his panic, Jason wrote back letters he never sent. Some were accusations, others were apologies.

His crossed arms slid down to rest his hands on the hem of his shirt. It would be a simple thing to strip down for Tim. They were alone and would be for some time yet, anything for some hint that the teen still cared.

The tired man didn't know how long he had spent searching for a sign in that tinted lens in the cave's chilly air. He scolded himself for nearly embarrassing himself on camera. What would Babs think when she saw it?

He decided he needed a drink.

…

A few hours later and a few drinks later, he had ended up at a dingy little loft. The lock gave way easily at his touch. Each room was quieter than the last, giving the impression that the teen was out for the day. Jason saw a pair of rhinestone heels tucked away by the bed. They were out of sight but still close enough to grab at a moment's notice. He surmised that he could find the other pieces if he looked.

A brief sob was heard nearby, and was almost small enough to be mistaken for a hiccup. There was a second as Jason opened the bathroom door.

Tim was there, sitting on the bathroom counter and holding back his cries. He was courteous, even about his own despair. It took him a moment to notice the man beside him. Shocked and horrified, he hid something in the folds of his clothes. "What are you doing here?" He asked too quickly.

"What were you doing?"Jason asked, half-worried and half-suspicious. The shy teen shrugged and said that it didn't matter.

"_Tim" _He growled, grabbing Tim's wrist and pulled him harshly. The teen yelped in pain and Jason let go immediately, he didn't think he held him tight enough to bruise. The older man looked down at the red staining his hand, and when it seeped through Tim's dark sleeve.

The teen rubbed his scarred and cut wrist, wanting nothing more than to continue where he left off. "Please, just walk away." He pleaded weakly.

The older man smoothed his former flame's dark hair, and asked "Why are you doing this now? When things are getting better for you?"

Tim was offended like he was asked the stupidest question in the world. "You have to ask? Everyone hates me and I'll get thrown back to Greenvale the minute something happens." He fumbled with the simple knife in his pocket, purposely cutting his fingers on the edge. "Before when I was happy, I could take a picture of it and keep it. Now something good happens and it's gone, then I feel worse than before." He confessed, broken and unable to bear another day. "Just go away, I won't bother you anymore."

Instead, Jason found a box of bandages and disinfectant. "No…" The teen said shaking his head in fear, inching as far as he could away as he could in the tiny bathroom. The older man showed no signs of backing down and Tim went for his knife.

The blow was quick and decisive, back-handing him and tossing the thin blade into another room. Fighting and hair-pulling followed in his attempts to bend Tim down over the sink. "I'm trying to help you, you little bitch!" Jason ended up pinning him down with his full weight and held the teen's head down against the cold porcelain. "Now, are you going to let me or I do I have to turn the water on?"

Tim squirmed underneath him, but he knew the fight was as good as lost. Jason still managed to wash and wrap the shallow wounds. He let go and the teen turned away from him in anger.

"I didn't do this to punish you so don't pout at me." The older man fumed slightly, reaching for a towel for where he got splashed. The boy still didn't answer. Jason groaned at the silent treatment and finally asked "Do you still love me?"

Tim turned around, unable to believe what he just heard."How can you ask me that?" He responded, and there was hurt in pink-stained eyes.

Jason's eyes dipped down for a moment to chapped lips and said "Because I wanted to know how stupid I'd look if I kissed you right now."

The teen shifted a little in his seat and dared to hope. "Do you…Do you really mean that?" Calloused hands touched his face and brought their mouths together.

Three years of separation came to a crashing halt in an instant. The pills, the shots, the alcohol, and all of the other sick ways they tried to forget each other were wiped away. There was a sense of urgency in the act, like the whole thing was a dream and they were determined to make it last.

Tim was still on the counter and his back was pushed to the wall, while teeth and tongues clashed hungrily. Jason's hands felt his lover's chest and shoved the shirt up to bite at sensitive nubs. He pinched and pulled at one while he sucked roughly at the other. The teen whimpered at the painful treatment but said nothing. There was a gasp as he bit through the tender skin, running his tongue over the pinpricks of blood.

He pulled the garment off the rest of the way and Jason pulled the teen's legs apart to accommodate his hips between them. Tim's face flushed and he tried to push the man off of him, saying "We shouldn't"

The older man held his hips and started a slow grind. Heat pooled south that the teen tried to deny. Jason asked "Is that what you really want?" Sweat pricked at the teen's forehead, each thrust against him reminded him of how long it had been since he was last touched. Jason was the only person he ever wanted like this. He bit his lip as his traitorous legs wrapped around his lover's waist, pressing his want harder against Jason's hip.

"Do you have any lotion or do I have to fuck you dry?" He asked smugly, amused that all it took was a little grinding to make the teen's legs twitch with need. Tim's blush darkened a few shades and he mumbled something about the cabinet. The older man separated their bodies long enough to retrieve the bottle.

The teen unzipped his pants and pushed them down with his underwear. He bent over the counter and waited naked for his lover to return, nervously hiding his aching need between his thighs.

Jason came back and grinned at the sight. He gave him a kiss that left him breathless. "My Tim" He said, not really believing it himself. "I'm so glad you're back." The teen cursed as strong hands kneaded and squeezed his firm rear. A few buttons later he could feel a thick shaft push between his cheeks, he bucked against it and his lover told him 'not yet'.

An oiled hand wrapped around the teen's neglected need and it twitched happily in his grasp. Jason left tender kisses along a pale neck as he milked Tim with a firm grip. Bead of white dripped onto the tile floor. The nineteen year-old shuddered as he caressed every inch of him, mapping each vein and fondling the too-sensitive tip. Sharp teeth nipped at his ear as he pulled back his foreskin with his thumb.

"_Jason~!" _The teen begged for release and earned a swat on his rear. The wonderfully cruel hand left his manhood and before he could protest he felt something cold and wet press against his entrance. A long digit pushed inside and Tim sobbed in pleasure. It had been far too long.

He was tight and needy, moving against his lover like he was in heat. The older man took his time preparing him, he enjoyed the muscles of the teen's back rippled as held it in. The second finger joined the first and had Tim moaning praises. A thin sheen of sweat made reddened skin glisten in the light. His ruddy need was heavy with seed and it was hard to resist the urge to touch it as Jason worked.

The feeling left him for a moment and was replaced with something far thicker. The head stretched him open further, filling his walls with him. The older man let him adjust to the fullness when his hips were flush with Tim's. He drew out slowly, almost completely before slamming back in. The teen screamed.

He had been sparse with the lotion, not enough to hurt but enough to really _feel_ him inside. There would be no question about who he belonged to.

Tim writhed and clawed at the fake marble in front of him. The pace was brutal and he thanked him for it. Throbbing heat tore into him with each thrust, making him sob in joy. A hand in his hair yanked his head back so he could see himself in the mirror.

He was flushed and covered in his mate's sweat, while being fucked into submission he gladly gave. Blue eyes darkened with lust and red lips parted to scream the same name over and over again. Jason was all scars and muscle, brow furrowed in concentration.

His walls ached from the abuse and he wouldn't change a thing. His lover flipped him onto his back and threw a leg over his shoulder. He pressed his lips to the scarred knee and enjoyed the access the new angle gave him. Tim didn't know how he managed to hit him even deeper. _Oh, it hurt…_

Stars flashed above his eyes and clenched down on the invading organ penetrating him. Tim cried out as he came over his stomach and Jason was close behind, holding the teen close as seed ran down his milky thighs.

It took awhile for them to catch their breath and the older man carried his lover into the bedroom. They were both proud of the mess that became them. The teen was far too exhausted to stop his mate from tasting the seed that marred his body. The pink tongue tickled a puckered hole, lapping at sore skin.

Off in the distance a phone was ringing.

Barbara Gordon was dead.


	4. Chapter 4

Barbara was working late as usual and poured herself another mug of tea. A handful of files were open on her desk as she tried to piece together the identity of the masked bodyguard from the night before. Judging from the fight footage taken from Nightwing the night before, she could infer multiple abilities: heightened strength, speed, and endurance.

Sadly, those abilities were common in various types of meta-humans, humanoid alien species, and multiple forms of mechanical and chemical enhancements.

What she needed was some singular defining characteristic to weed him out. There was the repeated use of the phrase "Master" but that was little help.

She cleared her thoughts and returned to her training, listing the facts. The man had some connection to Tim's kidnapping and seemed to know about his connection to the local heroes. The big question is why kidnap Tim only to hand him over at the first sign of resistance? That type of tactic implied that the goal was already reached. The more the red-haired woman worked the more the plot unraveled.

Her computer beeped every so often as her medical database was accessed, Jason running the same tests over and over again. She would make a joke about insanity and repetition, but he was crazy to begin with. Was the kidnapping a ruse to poison them? Hardly, the computers created an anti-toxin almost instantly.

Again the machine beeped.

The sound was a distraction, recalling her doubts of the man's stability. Years of trauma were catching up to him and Tim's return wasn't helping.

The lights flickered once before the blackout hit and she sighed at the inconvenience. They never lasted long enough to auto-start her personal generators and it was too much of a hassle to turn them on for such a brief time. Besides, she had back-up systems in place to prevent data loss. She turned on a flashlight and sipped at her tea.

As a full three minutes passed, her many monitors were back up to full power. In a moment she resumed her work, sparing a brief glance over her shoulder to see that she was no longer alone. "I have to say I'm surprised." The engine whirred as her chair turned in place and she folded her hands in her lap. "I never thought you'd stoop to petty kidnapping." She cooed, hiding her annoyance that her base could be broken into so easily.

Few people knew the whole story of what happened with Tim, many were told that he had a psychotic breakdown and was relocated for treatment. The teen's friends were heartbroken at the news and did their best to be supportive, but there was one person who discovered the truth.

He had been the teen's friend longer than anyone else and was far more loyal to him than any of his so called 'family.' The half-kryptonian was offended at the accusation. "Tim was never in any danger." He seethed, recalling his fight with Nightwing. _They _abandoned him, _they _chose to believe that Tim would hurt someone he cared about.

Barbara could see his hands shaking and twitching at his sides, like he was uncomfortable standing still even for a moment. He had the potential to turn violent. "I never said he was, but why stage a kidnapping?" She waited for him to talk as her fingers inched over to a hidden alarm.

"Master says that-" His words were cut short when he heard the microscopic sound of her fingers moving under the desk. "You're not supposed to do that!" He screamed, tearing a desk off the floor and throwing it with a shattering crunch. It shattered a large array of monitors and it sparked spasmodically as if in pain.

He stepped forward with a purpose, his head hanging strangely on his shoulders. She doubted he was in control inside his own head. There was a laundry list of toxins, nanobots, and other substances that Tim could've could have used to turn Superboy into his rabid lapdog.

Again the computer beeped from another blood test.

"Master says that you can't be around anymore, that you're dangerous." His eyes began to glow as his anger grew.

"Master _this_, Master _that…_No matter how loyal you are, he will never love you as much as Jason." She refused to fall without a fight.

The battle lasted a total of six minutes and forty-three seconds. Every weapon, every security system was activated and used in that timeframe and they nearly destroyed the command room in the process. Barbara Gordon was on the floor, internally bleeding from three shattered ribs and a punctured lung. Conner snapped the neck of his dying enemy because he was ordered not to let her suffer.

The half- kryptonian began the second part of his mission. Using a flash drive from his belt he installed a program onto the fallen hero's computer network. He didn't ask what it was, because Master always knew best. He waited there through the next blackout as it sunk its roots deep into the servers and he allowed himself the luxury of feeling proud at a completed mission.

If Conner cared about anything else, he might have seen the frozen image of Jason looking longingly into a camera.

…

Tim woke up first, sore and filthy. His body ached in neglected places and his companion snored beside him. He was uncertain at this moment if this was a triumph or failure. He could still remember the pain of electroshock therapy, the agony of his skull being picked apart layer by layer. They said he was sane now, but he wasn't sure.

The pills made him sick and numb all over, but that was called 'progress'.

Carefully, the smaller male put a hand over Jason's heart as if the smallest movement would wake him. He remembered the knife in his nightstand. The pulse under his fingertips was lazy as the man slept and all it would take was a quick cut across the throat to make Tim clean again. Bliss washed over him at the thought, and memories of self-control flooded back.

Even now he was still Jason's prisoner, blindly eager to accept whatever reward or punishment the man offered. How easily did he give in last night?

It seemed so simple in his mind before; kill Jason and be free of the cause of his mania. He could blame everything on him, but a stubborn part of the teen was still in hopelessly in love.

When the doctors or the sickness kept him awake, the teen would find a small picture hidden in a book. The two of them were smiling, and he could recall what being happy was like. He missed this so much, the warmth of another body and the flash of a camera.

Loneliness and shame were the only things waiting for him outside of Greenvale.

Jason mumbled something and nudged closer to him. _Why are you here? _The teen asked, not understanding how he could sleep so soundly. _Shouldn't you hate me? _Admittedly the man was drunk last night, so he might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Again he thought of the knife.

He had tools in the closet that could crack open the sleeping man's ribcage, and had the drugs to keep him under. The surgery would be crude, but Jason has survived worse treatment in the past. A mechanical heart, made with care, would replace the biological one and the vigilante's heart would be his forever. It would be kept in a safe place in a special container to keep it warm and beating just for him. The teen's psychosis soared at the thought and filled him with a sense of joy.

A moment passed and the feeling was put back in a dark corner of his soul. _No, I don't want to hurt him anymore._

His lover stirred, groggy from a hangover. Jason sat up despite his pounding head and saw the teen looking back at him. Tim expected rejection and received a nervous smile instead. "Hey beautiful" He said warmly, slipping an arm around the teen's shoulder to pull him close. Tim leaned lazily into the touch, not wanting this to end.

Jason noticed the silence with a worried brow, "Are you okay?" he asked. Tim shrugged and said he was fine.

Some people used to describe the boy as cold during his days as Robin, but this was something completely different. His eyes were blank and distant, like he wasn't even sure where he was. If this was the cure, Jason found himself liking the disease better.

The teen stood up to gather some clean clothing and his lover could see how violent he'd been the night before. The bruises and bitemarks made his stomach flip. He reached out to keep the boy from leaving, pleading "If I hurt you, I am _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Finally there was life back in those icy blue eyes and Tim cut his apology short. "Don't you _ever _apologize for that." He seethed, hurt and betrayed. "Because you're going to realize that this was a horrible mistake and I…" The teen's emotions shifted rapidly, his voice cracking as he bit back a sob. He looked away to confessed something he saw as horrible. "I don't want you to go."

Suddenly there was an idea in Jason's head. It was sick and wonderful and hoped it would help. "Would you like to take my picture?" He offered, knowing what the gesture once meant "I'll pose for you and everything."

Tim's eyes widened in shock "You can't be serious."

Jason smiled warmly at him as held out his phone, assuring him of his trust.

The teen swallowed thickly, taking the cell from him as if it was a noose about to be slipped around his neck.

The first shot was simple, Jason still nude on the bed and gave a forced smile to camera. Both of them were nervous over how this would play out. They weren't sure who suggested taking more than one picture, but they both wanted it and grew more relaxed as time passed.

Tim felt like a kid again, high off of developer fumes and touching himself for the first time. Sure the simple phone was a far cry from his Polaroid, but the feeling of joy was the same. With each _click_ he was taking a moment and locking it so it couldn't leave. The pictures started off slowly because he was afraid to enjoy it.

He had flashbacks to a drugged photo session and to a night of his boyfriend bound and gagged.

His model's skin reddened despite the cool air. If there was a sane part of his mind, it should have been screaming its throat raw. H was getting off on the attention of his former abuser. The lens was cold as it watched him put his hands on the headboard and spread his legs wide, exposing every inch of him. He was already half-hard for the teen and it was no mistake that he knew.

He gave away self-control in exchange for the attention he yearned for.

Tim followed his movements on video, not wanting to miss a single moment of how Jason fucked his own fist. The man's lines were as gorgeous as ever as his back arched off the mattress and he even noticed some new scars on his chest. A word was pounding in the teen's ears, over and over again and louder every time.

MINE

Jason's pride was in tatters as he moaned and ground his hips against pre-cum stained pillows. The fabric was soft as silk against his aching length and he screamed the boy's name. There was a time he could blame this on drugs but now it was his own insanity driving him on. The former victim licked his lips, drunk on Tim's hunger. "Such a voyeur, Timmy" He purred as he licked seed off his hand. "Don't you want me to touch you?"

The teen nodded, unable to form words. His hand was twitching at his side as if it had a mind of its own when he stopped taking pictures.

There was a noise in the other room as the older man's pants started to ring. Jason grumbled and answered the phone, asking what was going on. He could hear a train station's clamor on the other end as Dick spoke. "Barbara was killed last night. I went to talk to her and…someone broke in." The news made his body grow cold. Even talking about it was difficult and he couldn't imagine the pain his brother was going through. He'd loved her for so long that it was impossible to think that she would ever leave.

The younger of the two had to put a hand over his mouth to keep from crying. "Oh my God…Who did this?"He asked desperately. The teen knew what had happened before he even said it and crawled over to comfort his lover.

"We don't know yet, the security cameras fry out the moment he walked in. Almost everything was destroyed." Dick's sadness turned to frustration fueled by grief "I've been trying to call you for hours, I even went to your place and you weren't there. Where the hell have you been, Jason?"

His voice caught in his throat at the question he was terrified to answer. The teen had welcomed him back with open arms and it was even better than he remembered. _God, _how he had missed being happy and together like this. Jason was an addict that didn't want to be cured. The wayward vigilante leaned over onto Tim's shoulder, unable to admit what he's done. "Dick, I just woke up." He said, his voice sagging tiredly.

The evasion sent alarm bells ringing in Nightwing's head. "Where are you?" he repeated slowly, already dreading the answer. He should have kept a better eye on him and he knew he shouldn't have left him alone.

Tim wrapped his arms around the Red Hood's neck and kissed at exposed skin. Blue eyes met green and Jason could see a strength there he hadn't seen in a long time. _We both need this. _He seemed to say, hiding his jealousy over how close his brothers had become.

He adjusted his grip on the small cell-phone to say "I…I don't want to talk about it over the phone." He stopped to take Tim's lips in a slow kiss. He was aching for another round with the siren in his lap.

Dick knew his brother had made a terrible mistake. Two years spent trying to piece together his shattered life and that bastard throws it away at the first opportunity. "Fine, but answer this…" He said angrily, wanting to punch him in the mouth. "…where's Tim?"

The dull sound of the dial tone was his answer.


	5. Chapter 5

Something had changed in Gotham since Oracle's death. The civilians didn't notice any change but the city's vigilantes could taste it in the air.

Barbara had set up security measures in case of her death, so the clock tower never went dark. Her voice could still be heard, although it came synthesized from a virtual intelligence. It wound transfer data, analyze samples, and coordinate police reports, in hopes of making the transition as smooth of possible. Dick could feel something crawling under his skin when he heard the ghost-like voice over his earpiece and Jason thought the program was in bad taste, even if it was useful.

Oracle was a mastermind who kept her cards close to her chest, so no one noticed that something was off.

Tim's virus had taken over completely, digging its tentacles around every server. Files would shuffle around in the gray hours of the morning and turn up again with certain changes. He was sifting through years of cases, of heartache and memories, crossing out what he didn't like with a black marker. He had access to everything.

His old family searched for her murderer in vain as they chased false positives across the city. The Oracle program was a hollowed-out shell and became little more than another one of Tim's masks. What he was doing to the name of Oracle was far worse than Conner's beating. The teen sipped coffee from his technological womb while he subtly rendered his family deaf, dumb, and blind. It was the old rule of "divide and conquer". Their dependence on machines became their weakness.

He cracked open his old case with bitten lip, retrieving data regarding evidence lockers.

He would need his things back now that Jason loved him again. One of these nights they might even watch the tapes and go over old photographs. The idea made him warm as he planned out a date. He hadn't had this much fun in years.

Tim tore through encrypted areas with the finesse of a madman's scalpel, hardly caring what was damaged as long he got what he wanted. At times like this it was hard to say if his mind had gotten better or worse.

He had believed that if he acted a certain way, he would be loved. Bruce wanted a brilliant student, Dick wanted a younger brother to protect, and Jason wanted love that Tim was more than willing to give. He still wanted acceptance, everyone does, but if he didn't get it…

Well, no sleep lost if something bad happened to them.

Tim had rules now, he would no longer allow anyone to treat him anyway they wished. He would defend himself and the teen would be good this time to Jason.

His attention shifted to another monitor, suddenly distracted from looking for his old toys.

The family's GPS trackers scurried like glowing ants across the map of the city and watched two overlap. Dick and Jason, he mused, not sure of what he felt about that. It was so good to see them being friends after how much they used to fight, but Dick could also be a threat.

His oldest brother was kind and very handsome, and most importantly at the moment, sane. Tim gave a frustrated sigh and leaned back into the leather chair. He could fix this.

Many of the pieces were already in place for reprogramming, and all he needed was the opportunity. He had wanted to do the same with Barbara but it would have been only a matter of time before she figured out what was happening. He either needed to get to her first or completely take her off the board.

Hers and Jason's surveillance limited his movements and forced his hand. She had to die.

Tim didn't want to lose any more of his precious family, not when he had the tools to fix them. The best part was that he no longer had the tough choice of whether or not he should kill Jason, being together was a much better option.

A smile danced across his face, the reprogramming would likely be done in time for an autumn wedding- "No, no, no!" He cried out, banging his fist against the side of his head. "It's much too soon, I need to wait!"

"Wait for what?" Conner asked, pouring his master a second cup of coffee. He was dressed simply, t-shirt and jeans was all he needed. He had undergone reprogramming willingly, after it had been practiced on a few doctors first. He wasn't going to start slicing into Conner without making sure it was safe. His haircut was a little messier than he was used to, but it hid the scars well.

The teen took the cup gratefully, letting the mug warm his hands. He would still be in a very dark place if it weren't for his best friend being so supportive. "I was just thinking about Jason." He mused, blowing on the cup after taking a too-hot sip. The half-Kryptonian frowned slightly at the words, and Tim already knew his sour thoughts regarding Jason. This was supposed to be about conquering his demons, not getting back in bed with them.

"Are you still going to kill him?" Conner asked, noticing how the teen's attention lingered more on the glowing screens beside him. Conner was a prized companion, but he was once again reminded of his position. He was the teen's strong right hand and was allowed certain privileges because of it. It was a gift to brush his hair or help him dress, but he could not touch the body he worshiped.

Why was this piece of gutter trash given what he worked so hard for? What was it about him that Tim found irresistible?

"Not yet anyway…" Tim said finally after thinking about it carefully. "I think I'll enjoy keeping him around for a little while longer." He calmed his friend's jealously, talking about his lover as if he were a pet. The lie made Conner happy and the last thing he wanted was for more fighting between his loved ones.

…

Jason lifted a cigarette to his lips, using nicotine as a cheap escape. His brother's eyes had gone cold since they last spoke, and second Robin couldn't blame him. They were in another grimy warehouse, taking a breather before 'Oracle' sent them out again. "Did you find any leads?"He asked, barely glancing up.

Dick was tense all over like he was holding back the urge to scream. He was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched the rain outside. The issue was there just beneath the skin and the only question was who'd hit first. He wanted to punch Jason right in the mouth, beat some sense into him until he realized what kind of mistake he was making. He could throw him back into prison long enough for this whole mess to blow over.

Why couldn't he see that Tim was going to be the death of him? There was no other way for this to end. Even if Tim was completely cured, which Dick highly doubted, having Jason around would only make it worse. He was afraid to imagine what the teen would do if he lost him a second time.

Dick wanted to pool up all of the anger, frustration, and betrayal of it all and give up. He could block Jason's number and forget he ever existed. The man was old enough to make his own decisions and pay the price. There would be no more nights holding the man's head while he cried, his head reeled with all the possibilities of what he could do with his newfound free time. No more concern wasted on someone who would only throw it away.

But he couldn't.

His bleeding heart couldn't stand aside and watch Jason destroy himself, nor could he scare him away. Dick would bite his tongue until it bled, but he wouldn't give up on him. Instead he shook his head, switching back to the topic of the recent death to say "I scoped the place top to bottom, unknown prints and unknown DNA." He sighed deeply, "I think we need Bruce's help on this."

Jason groaned, the last thing he needed was for Dick and Bruce to team up against him. "What he need is a new Oracle." He offered, watching blue eyes narrow incredulously. The younger man threw his hands up in surrender. "Look, I'm as freaked out by the VI thing as you _and _she never meant for it to be permanent."

Nightwing's brows knit together at the suggestion. "Absolutely not" He growled, not even needing to hear the rest of this blasphemous idea.

Green eyes shifted from his brother to the wall in a mixture of guilt and shame. "Tim's had it really hard since what happened, he wants to make things right. He would be a big help and you said yourself that you wanted us to get along."

Dick fumed at having his own words thrown back at him. "That's not what I meant and you know it." He shouted in a rare display of anger. "And as far as I'm concerned, he's a suspect."

"I spent the whole night with him, he couldn't have done it." Jason continued before his brother could ask why. "I was upset, so I went to see him. All we did was talk." The moment the words left his mouth, Dick grabbed him harshly by the arm and yanked him forward. He was furious, "Jason, you do _not_ lie to me. Not after the hell we've gone through. What did you do?"

Dark bruises formed under the man's grip, and Jason winced in pain. Pain switched over to anger when his fist connected with Dick's face. "It's none of your damn business, and I don't need you to take care of me!"He wrenched himself free from his brother's grip and Dick threw a blade to keep him from running.

…

A few hours later, Dick tugged at his tie as he climbed into the driver's seat still burning with anger from before. He needed to clear his head.

He had never cared much for designer things; often scoffing at overcomplicated drinks and thousand-dollar scarves, but this was a small exception. His plain oolong tea was kept warm by a scuffed thermos out of place in the fine Italian car. The sports car was a rare show of pride for the martial artist and one of the few things he owned that belonged solely to _him._

It wasn't one of Bruce's hand-outs, or one of Oracle's rentals, hell, it wasn't even _Nightwing's_ car. He tried damn hard to keep his baby free from any bat- enhancements, despite what anyone else said. The vibrant blue vehicle was a civilian car straight down to its titanium frame. It was a hard thing to explain why he was so touchy about it. He supposed it was because it was a small slice of normal in a world gone mad. When he was behind the wheel, he could pretend that he really was Dick Grayson, professional flake. He wouldn't have to think about how his life was falling apart.

He didn't want to admit what happened to Barbara, or what was still happening between Jason and Tim. Honestly he couldn't figure out how Jason had gotten so stupid. Or maybe it was his fault again, maybe he should have pressed the second Robin more about dating again. What if space was the last thing Jason needed? Dick could have stepped aside when the best thing he could have done was pull him closer.

And Tim was just _wrong._ He thought in disgust, as if the word never had a meaning before now. It was as terrifying and undeniable as if it was a hole in the universe itself.

He stopped the depression before it began, frowning into the rear-view mirror as he shifted on to the highway. It was less than twenty minutes to get to his Wayne Enterprises meeting from his loft. When Tim was adopted, the teen had taken to business like a fish to water and Dick was grateful to be free of the paperwork.

It sounds terrible doesn't it? "If only Tim wasn't psychotic and brutally attack his step-brother, then I wouldn't have to go to boring meetings." He thought with an audible groan. Everyone has their coping mechanisms, Bruce drowns in work, Jason makes horrible decisions, and Dick used humor.

What the boy did tainted every memory he had, every kind word, every holiday together was now subject to second-guessing. Did they ever really meet the real Tim? He took a deep breath and leaned back into the seat, he didn't need this right now. In a few minutes he'd be at the meeting and discussing employee stock options. Traffic sped past him in metallic herds as nimble hands curled around the steering wheel.

But the wheel refused to move.

Miles away in a dim room lit by monitors and the harsh light of LEDS, Tim watched in tense amusement as the tiny camera installed into the rearview mirror gave him every detail. He tapped excitedly at the keys at his new game.

Getting the vehicle under his sway was a simple enough feat, it was merely a matter of paying off the right mechanic at one of his usual tune-ups.

Dick wrenched his body as the wheel refused to budge even under his full strength. The vehicle didn't seem to notice as the first Robin took his foot off the accelerator and stamped on the brake. Realizing that his pampered baby had become a steel deathtrap, he weighed his options as the car smoothly drifted into the wrong lane. The engine purred nicely as Tim tilted the controls, urging it to go faster. The teen was pleased how the machine responded to his touch and absent-mindedly considered getting one for Jason.

He could practically feel his brother's heart pounding in his ears as Dick was slammed repeatedly against the side of the car as the performance vehicle swerved to avoid being hit. He was tossed around like an ant in a tin can. The martial artist managed to right himself and in a predicted move, Dick slammed his elbow into the driver side window.

The plastic nanocomposite barely shuddered with the blow, let alone break. Again, another gift of having a useful mechanic.

Fear and horror painted otherwise fair features as the grim situation became even darker. His face turned to the skylight and his hands went for his belt. Each second of his life was counting down as he jammed his knife into the upholstered ceiling. With a prayer, he could dig out the skylight in time to escape.

Tim's interest grew, he didn't want this to be easy. He craved the challenge of someone as brilliant as Nightwing for a long time. Almost in encouragement, the car underneath him steadied its out-of-control ride. Dick's hands frantically scraped at metal, unhinging the window an inch at the time. A horn blared in his ears and he cursed whatever god in heaven that hated him.

Blood ran down his wrist as it slipped in his hands and slashed open a finger. A panicked glance showed that he was crossing the bridge. A gaping river followed him on the left, traffic on the right, and a semi-truck was locked on a collision course with him and showed no signs of stopping.

The heel of his hand slammed against the clear plastic, breaking it halfway from its frame. Freedom and death were so close now.

Dick screamed his name in fury, damning his foe. The teen couldn't stop laughing in excitement, this was one of the best days of his life. The skylight gave way and he could feel the sudden gust of wind whipping through his hair. The semi's grill filled the sight of the car's windshield and Tim's hand tapped the keyboard once.

A ball of pressure swelled out from the back of Nightwing's head as his world went dark. The last thing he heard was the screaming of metal on metal.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing he noticed was the light. He was still regaining consciousness when a blue-white glow flooded his vision. It burned his eyes and followed him as turned his turned his head. A groan fell out of his throat in frustration.

"It appears Mr. Grayson is responding to stimuli." And the voice above him seemed pleased by the development. The simple penlight clicked off and Dick's senses were slowly coming back to him. Confused blue eyes darted around the room as he tried to figure out what had happened.

The small room was white and meticulously clean, and the smell of fresh paint still lingered in the air. His hand refused to move when he tried to rub at the dull ache in his head. Leather and metal rattled at he struggled against the straps binding his wrists and ankles to a metal operating table. He couldn't find anything to pick the lock. He could see that his clothing had been changed to a pair of thin gray hospital pants. New bandages covered up cuts and scrapes from being pulled out of the wreckage hours earlier. The last thing he remembered was blacking out before he had the chance to escape.

Tim had sent Kon in to rescue him, after all he never intended for his brother to die. "Good morning Dick, or should I say 'good evening'?" The teen joked with a smile as he checked the IV imbedded in his brother's wrist. He was pleased that fluid and heart levels were all within safe operating ranges.

"Tim? Wha-what the hell is going on?" Dick stammered, suddenly frightened by whatever mystery chemical was lazily dripping into his veins. "Where am I?" He demanded to know. The teen seemed confused by the question, tilting his head to side like a puppy. "Home" He said suddenly, like the word was a new concept "at least for now."

A machine started to hum outside of his field of vision and Tim sat beside him in a wheeled office chair. He had time to kill while it warmed up. "Don't worry, it just saltwater and a little something to keep you relaxed."He said, taking note of his brother's concerned look. The real danger was already brewing in his bloodstream. Sedated blue eyes quickly perked up as if remembering something important, "Oh, _do_ try not to fight the nanobots too much. Raises the chance of nosebleeds, brain damage-that sort of thing."

Tim frowned as his brother's heart rate spiked as he did just the opposite of what he wanted. "Nanobots? When?" Dick exclaimed.

The teen's face split into a cat's grin, proud that he outsmarted a house full of detectives. He could have laughed at how easy it was and that none of them bothered to remember that who helped build the medical scanner in the first place.

"Remember when both of you got poisoned at the night club, and the whole thing seemed too easy?" The chair rolled over so Tim could tap at his brother's forehead as he said "The hallucinations were just a cover, so I could place thousands of little nanites that are now crawling around in your skull." He wanted to see what they would do with the chance to kill him, and Jason's behavior afterwards was…unexpected to say the least. Unexpected, but not unpleasant.

"You're going to brainwash me." Dick said horrified at what the teen was capable of.

"I like to call it 'reprogramming'" He said with a shrug and started to explain, Dick deserved the truth "Being at Greenvale, going through the electroshock, the therapies, and the medication…I have such a great sense of clarity now." The incessant humming stopped and a light on it turned from red to green. Tim noticed and took a blue tub off of a shelf, toying with it in his hands. "I spent so much time and effort trying to get everyone to like me, but I realized that don't really _need_ to. I don't have to change myself to make someone love me because I should be with someone that cares for me the way I am. Even if they need some encouraging." He said with a smile.

The nanobots took time to alter the host's mind. The process with Conner took months, but he didn't have long before someone noticed Dick was gone. There was a way to speed things up, but it was less than pleasant. He unscrewed the lid off of the tub and applied the cold salve to Dick's temples. It was funny in a way, the electroshock machine that cured him would now cure them.

He considered doing the same to Jason, but any good relationship needs trust to stay healthy. At least that's what his doctors said.

So what if he lied a little during therapy and drove a few nurses insane? It was scientific progress.

Nightwing realized in horror what he was being prepped for and that escape was hopeless. His only option was to keep him talking and pray that there was some sanity left to appeal to before it was too late. In desperation he begged, "Tim let me go, you don't want to do this."

There was a look of hurt that flashed before the boy's eyes and for a brief moment he could see the younger brother he lost. He started speaking softly as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was doing, "Soon we'll be a family again and maybe you'll even enjoy it, like Kon did."

The diodes were applied to the vigilante's temples and Dick braced himself for the pain of a lightning bolt crashing through his skull. The blow was stalled when Tim wrapped his arms around his brother's neck, placing a small kiss on his forehead. "I wish I could say that it won't hurt, but I promise to make it up to you when it's over." The teen gave him a hopeful grin, further highlighting the vast disconnect between an innocent mind and cruel hand. The moment Tim's hands left his face, the torture began. A burning heat shot through his body and his back arched in pain.

The agony lasted for less than a second, stealing the air from his lungs. A white light flashed before his eyes, and he swore that they threatened to burn out of his skull. His chest aching like he had been struck as he fought against the binds with every drop of strength. His wrists and ankles became bruised from the struggle. The echoes of screams he couldn't remember rang in his ears. Tim would barely let him catch his breath before he flipped the switch a second time. As the jolts reached double digits, years of training and discipline abandoned him along with any hope of rescue. He cried out in anger and suffering, swearing and begging for release.

He didn't know what to say to make it stop. Sometimes he called the teen awful names and others he was pleading forgiveness. Veins were lit on fire as the cycle continued.

Each jolt hurt him worse than the last, tearing down his defenses and searing deep enough to leave a brand on his mind. There was a buzzing in his skull as his personality was fractured a sliver at a time. Thoughts and memories were ripped from his head during what felt like an eternity. The teen's hand stilled for a moment, letting his fingers rest on the switch. Dick's heart beat wildly in his chest like a trapped bird fighting against its cage.

Was the sudden reprieve the mercy or forgiveness that the teen spoke of? He sobbed openly in his torment, cold tears ran down a too-warm face. He wanted to give in, to do anything to make the pain go away. He wished his heart would fail him now to spare him the living horror of being trapped inside his own head. A pounding worse than any relentless beating tore at his consciousness. Voices murmured outside of his senses and he tried to discern if it was a product of his ringing ears. The room spun when he tried to look around. His teeth seemed to vibrate in his mouth.

Shaking hands touched his damp forehead and was surprised not to find blood. He could feel hair wet with sweat and knew that his skull was still in one piece, even if the contents were not. The crying and gasping slowed enough for him to form one thought: Run.

He rolled off of the table and hit hard tiled flooring in a heap. He did not question why the binds were suddenly gone. The hard surface was frigid in comparison to the hot torrent of blood flowing just under the skin. A wave of sickness over took him when he tried to stand. His stomach dry heaved in protest and his hold on the table was only thing keeping from falling again.

If he fell now, there would be no getting back up.

His legs were weak underneath him, but he managed to find the will. Gray shapes blurred and swam as moved forward, using his hands to steady him as he tried to find the exit. He couldn't find his captor and prayed that he wouldn't for a long time. He went past a door and found that the building seemed to fall apart beyond it.

If he was well, he would have heard a phone ringing when the torture stopped. Kon held out the phone so the teen could talk as he wiped the blood of his hands. Dick had bitten his lip halfway through the torture, delirious from the thousands of volts bouncing around his skull.

Bruce had called, asking how he was adapting to being back in Gotham. He could have screamed, taken the phone from his hands and called for help.

The operating room gave way to what was left of an abandoned apartment building. Paint chips fell from the walls and crunched under his bare feet. Some doors were boarded up with molded wood and forgotten for what looked like decades while others were brand new. Decay fought against floral perfume and he found that he could no longer hear the voices.

Hurrying, he chose a door recently used and as blue as the sky. His hopes were raised and dashed in an instant, it was a bedroom.

The room was like stepping into a dream untouched by the horrors just beyond the walls. A large canopy bed stood serenely in the far corner with its translucent sheets pulled shut. Glassy eyes followed him as dolls and stuffed animals were scattered on all surfaces and covered large sections of the floor. Black wires blended in with orange and stripes. Unbeknownst to him, the toys were gifts from Kon knowing that his master enjoyed them but not the reason.

Cables and cords crossed the exposed carpet like the roots of a tree. They lead him to a series of computers and monitors, old and new with servers connected by cables that spanned the room. Machines were broken open and cannibalized to create the teen's network. He saw red dots moving on a GPS screen. Briefly he wondered if that was what Tim felt like, a bunch of unmatching pieces sewn together.

He gulped thickly as he passed the bed, frightened by what it might mean. He thought of what happened to Jason and walked past it on edge, waiting for something inside to move.

The broken hero looked over the mess of computers briefly, thinking that it shouldn't be that hard to find a way to shut it down. Frantic hands searched for connections and started pulling, metal was bent with the force and cords sparked in protest.

Tim was standing in the doorway and watched the violent act with mild interest, his crutches tucked under his arms. The minor act of defiance was cute to him, like a puppy chewing on his owner's shoes. Any damage his older brother made could be fixed in a matter of hours. "It's not nice to barge into someone else's room." He said abruptly, seeing how Dick's body froze in fear at being caught. Blue eyes glanced around the room to search for a weapon. "You've had a big day Richard, I think it's time you got some rest." He said pleasantly, as if Dick was an excited child that just came home from Disneyland.

Dick's hands twitched as his side, he could fight back. He had been trained to know over a hundred ways to take someone down in an instant. After everything he's done, killing Tim would be a treat. That train of thought was dashed the moment Conner stepped on the scene.

It was a fight that Nightwing wanted to avoid, but one look in his eyes told him that that wasn't an option. The clone was too far gone to ever be right again. "What did he do to you?" He asked his former ally with no response.

Tim watched the scene, allowing his friend to dirty his hands instead. It was hardly a struggle as Dick was drugged with a syringe to his throat, slumping down over the bed. The unconscious man was as boneless as a rag doll when he was picked up. There would be more surgeries before the process was complete. The teen went on ahead to get the tools ready, eager for how loving Dick would become.

Kon hesitated as he still held his master's brother in his arms. He was not threatened by Dick or Bruce, their roles in the teen's heart were clearly defined. They would be little more than animate versions of the dolls that decorated his room. But Jason was different.

He was self-centered and arrogant, and he would never want Tim the same way he did. The man could not appreciate the feeling of scars on his back or Tim's fingers running through his head. He would not ask to be reprogrammed.

Conner's knuckles cracked as he made a fist, he could force him. He had seen the procedure enough times to perform it by heart. The wayward robin would be fixed or die in the process.

…

It was harder coming here this time despite having a key. This was the last place he should be but his addiction called out to him, fevered and hungry. The apartment was still as quiet as a tomb and maybe it was. He found the teen on the bed, idling with a textbook in one hand and a yellow marker in the other. He came home from work not long ago. Jason was sober this time, no longer needing the alcohol as an excuse.

His hands were on the boy in an instant, tangling in his hair and crushing their lips together. The book was taken out of his hands and tossed across the room. Tim laughed like it was some sort of game.

He'd been calling Dick for hours without an answer. He shouldn't have snapped at him like that or this never would have happened. He wanted to apologize for being stupid, for being weak, for everything he could think of. But it felt so good when he was around Tim.

If he brought it up, the teen would've said they were making a mistake again and he didn't want to be left alone with Dick's disappointment. A thin tee-shirt was pulled up just enough for Jason's teeth to find his nipples. "_Don't leave me", _he pleaded weakly and was unwilling to say it out loud.

He wanted everything the boy had to offer.

Tim had never wanted to change him, never looked at him like he was something broken. He loved the man as he was and adored every scar. The teen didn't mind being late for class and never said a word of protest as jeans were pulled off of slim hips. A brief question flashed through the haze, could someone in Tim's position even give consent?

Hands and mouths fought for purchase as claimed every inch. Everything about this was rougher than it would have been years ago. The beginnings of bruises marked where his mouth was moments before. A part of him was still angry at him, even if he refused to say it. If it wasn't for the boy's bewitching ways his family wouldn't be leaving him now.

But Tim never stopped wanting him, no matter how much he wanted the scars on his wrists to go away.

He thinks that he can control the boy, keeping him in line with rough sex and bubblebaths. There was adoration and a warning in these meetings. He wanted Tim to know how small and weak he was as an oiled finger was pushed inside of him. The boy was loved and knew his neck would be snapped the moment he was seen as a threat. Jason was the one in control now or as far as he knew. "Congratulations" His conscience said, "You can force yourself on a crippled and mentally-ill nineteen year old."

Jason thought he was abusive and Tim couldn't stop grinning.

He welcomed the firm hand and treasured each hit. A joyous scream tore its way out of his throat when Jason was finally inside. His legs wrapped tight around his lover's waist, holding on as the bed was groaning underneath them. Adoring every minute of the push-pull sensation it created. Jason made him promise to be _his _and to never hurt him again, the boy vowed wholeheartedly.

He didn't know that the boy could kill him with a push of a button or reprogram him into the perfect pet-boyfriend. Luckily, if Tim wanted perfect he wouldn't be interested in the most damaged man he ever met.

The boy's body arched dramatically when he finally came, mewling and begging as hot seed was pumped into him.

They were left sweaty and sticky from their sins, the missed class altogether forgotten. They panted and kissed, when it was over Tim thanked him for the affection.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been a long time since Tim was this happy and nothing could bring him down now. It was so nice to have his brother back.

The old pipes creaked a little as he washed off the last of his tools, the hot water changing color as he worked. Pink bubbles piled up around the edges of the sink and Tim couldn't resist blowing a handful into the air. A freshly-scrubbed scalpel was carefully set on a towel to dry. He could still remember the vivid pinks and reds of the hero's insides, they were so warm and healthy. At least he didn't have to worry about the man's health in his absence.

Dick had always pushed himself too hard, so it was nice to see him take it easy for once.

Stitching up his brother had taken a little longer than expected, and he had barely enough time to toss his tools into his bag before Jason picked him up from 'work'. It was a risk to take his toys home with him, but it's not like he could leave the task to Conner. Bits of gore fell from the metal edge easily while his game was quickly reaching its end. Excitement and butterflies welled up inside of him. The future was a shiny, new toy that he couldn't wait to open.

A chuckle bubbled up from inside, remembering the look on his friend's face when he left without a word. Maybe it was cruel that he enjoyed seeing him jealous and at least it wasn't entirely his fault, Jason could be _so_ distracting.

Kon had changed under the teen's tutelage, turning the JLA-hopeful into an accomplice in horror. But now that his experiments are reaching their end, he didn't need his assistant anymore. It was one of the oldest of humanity's questions; what good is a soldier in peacetime?

Alas dear Kon, you will be remembered fondly even if you were getting dull.

His cheerful mood returned with the thought of his newest pet. He could teach Dick how to cut, prep for surgery, and lots of the other fun things he couldn't share with Jason. Although, this time he'd spare Dick the hassle of remembering what happened. He doubted his brother's sensitive heart could take the stress.

He wanted to keep the happy brother he remembered.

His eyes narrowed in thought for a moment, curious to how much Dick could already recall. A deep sigh escaped his lips when he thought about how hurt and confused he must be right now. He ached to let his beloved brother out of his sight in his time of need, but holding on to him any longer would draw too much attention and risk having him being taken away. Maybe there would be time later to tie him to the bed and play nurse. He was already gauging if there was enough room on Jason's bed for all three.

He doubted his boyfriend would approve of having Dick included in their tight relationship even if it would be cute to see them cuddling instead of fighting. Maybe that would be his next project after the wedding, give them time to get used to each other again and for the programming to take hold.

Jason might become jealous if he introduced the idea too soon. The fear of infidelity was of course, silly.

Jason would always be his favorite.

…

Shapes and colors filtered through Dick's mind as he processed where he was.

Pale daylight poured from a part in the curtains and the air was too warm for comfort. There was a noise in his head as he stretched and there was the nagging idea that he was supposed to be somewhere. The peace of being back in his own bed and the fresh smell of coffee was short lived as the memories came flooding back.

His heart was lodged in his throat as he tried to determine if what had happened was real. He couldn't remember anything after being knocked out by Conner. His wrists were free of bruises and his hair was damp from a recent shower. There was so sign that he just survived a car crash and being tortured by his little brother. Maybe it just a nightmare?

But the dull pain in the back of his head was proof that it was all _very _real. He hissed in displeasure when he touched the stitches hidden by black hair, only to have his hand came back wet with medicated gel. A glance down revealed blue pajamas he didn't recognize. He touched the new cloth covering his body, the softly-colored silks felt luxurious and his hair was damp from a recent bath.

Fragments of memories flitted past his eyes and they were hard to distinguish from the drug-induced nightmares. _A porcelain tub filled to the brim with pink bubbles …_His stomach grew ill with the idea that his younger brother stripping and bathing him, later dressing him up like a prized doll.

Remembering what happened was like trying to piece a broken window when half the pieces were missing.The steaming water stung his skin but he couldn't make his jaw move in protest.

Tim was with him the whole time, whispering sweet nothings into Dick's ear as he cared for his patient. He did not want to be alone with this boy.

It was hard to tell what was real when his mind was trapped at the horrid intersection of reality, nightmare, and hallucination.

But there was always a small, red dot burned into his mind.

While he was propped up in the claustrophobic bath, over-medicated to the point that even turning his head became an exhausting task, the dot never left his field of vision. It was the closest thing to a decoration in the bathroom was barely larger than a closet. The teen would wipe his wet hands on his pants before he checked to see if the footage was good.

Years ago, Bruce had taught him multiple ways to temporarily block out pain or stress. One of them was to focus on a single, unrelated object or thought in an attempt to distance the mind from the stressor. It was essentially staring at the ceiling above the dentist's head so you don't think about the metal tools digging into your gums.

The crude form of meditation did little for the younger Dick Grayson, who was far too hyperactive to focus for any span of time.

The red dot mocked him as it observed everything and did nothing to stop it.

Dick was too frightened of what he would find if he chased after the memory, and he chose to let it stay buried. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, not knowing what would happen now. Was he some kind of brainless cyborg? Would he have any control over his body?

There was a murmur in the back of his mind he couldn't ignore, the whisper of a thousand voices. The sounds were pleasant to his ears and there was the urge to sink into them like a warm blanket. No, he couldn't go down that road. Not while there was still an ounce of fight left in him.

The first thing he found was his phone resting on the nightstand. The pocket device was fully charged and told him it had been two days since he was taken.

_Two days? _He thought in shock, _I've been gone that long? _

He went from screen to screen, finding messages from his family and his eyes widened to find that he had already responded to them. _That's why they couldn't find me, they never found out I was gone. _

As far as they knew he was off chasing a lead and was too busy to talk in person. Dick couldn't remember answering any calls. There was a moment of panic as the cell began to ring with Jason's name emblazoned across the screen.

He had to get his brother away from Tim immediately, ever second he wasted was another chance for the teen to dig his hooks in further. How would he even explain what happened to him without sounding crazy?

The moment the call connected, Dick started to explain "Jason, thank God you called. You have to get away from Tim right now and-" A voice cut him off before he could finish.

"Why would he have to do something silly like that?" The teen giggled.

_Oh God, no…_ A cold chill ran down from his neck as his mind went white with fear. A flood of images overtook his mind with an unspeakable terror happing to Jason in each one. "What have you done with Jason?" He demanded, realizing he was screaming.

There was a displeased sound on the other end, "Don't yell at me..." Tim whined. "…I'll hang up on you if you're going to be mean. I just wanted to know how you were doing, I was worried about you since I had to leave in such a hurry."

The first Robin bit his tongue to hold back the torrent of anger and betrayal, but he needed the information too badly. "I want to know where Jason is and if he's alright." He spoke in the measured steps of a hostage negotiator instead of crying out how if he really cared, he wouldn't have drugged two of his brothers for his sick game.

"I want you to apologize first for hurting my feelings." He pouted into the receiver.

Dick wanted to throttle him, the boy hadn't finished picking pieces of his brain out from under his fingernails and he was still wasn't done fucking with him? If it was only his life on line, he'd-

He stopped that furious train of thought before it could leave the station. It wasn't just his life he was gambling with and the deaths wouldn't end with Barbara. Jason and the others are going to need his help if they were going to get out of this alive.

If it meant that he had to play tea-party with the devil himself, so be it. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, I didn't mean to." He said with the most remorse he could muster.

The teen either didn't catch that it was fake or simply didn't care, he smiled as said "I know what's wrong, you're probably just grumpy because you haven't had breakfast yet." Taking pity on his victim, he answered his questions. "Jason went out about an hour ago to get some supplies, he seemed fine when he left."

Dick allowed himself the moment of relief at knowing that Jason was safe for a little while, but there was another question eating him up inside. It was getting harder to ignore the voices. "What's happing to me?"

There was silence for a moment before Tim spoke, the childlike demeanor was set aside for once. "Do you really want the answer?" He asked giving him the option of blissful ignorance.

But there was no turning back now or ever. He was going to fight this. "…I have to know." He admitted, already knowing the road ahead of him was going to get far worse before he reached the other side.

The teen was thinking about the best way to phrase it, before explaining that "Some of your more_ unpleasant_ memories are being replaced. You'll still remember what happened to your parents but some of the more recent ones won't be around to bother you anymore. In short, you're learning to accept what I am."

"Whether I want to or not." Dick sneered.

Tim shook his head. "It will only prolong the pain to fight back. Think about how happy you'll be when it's finished." He insisted, urging him that it was a nightmare he's going to wake up from soon enough.

His brother cried out in pain at Tim's arrogance and cruel stupidity. "I don't _want _happy, I want to be _myself_! Don't you understand? The pain makes us who we are!" Becoming Robin, choosing to move on, every choice they made up 'til now was a product of their free will. Sure, not all of it was perfect but they were making progress. "If you truly wanted me to be happy…you wouldn't have done this to me."

This stunned the boy back into silence. His precious doll wasn't acting as he should and was forcing him to acknowledge his crimes. "I'm hanging up now." His voice faltered as he chose denial over accepting the truth. "I think it's time you had the breakfast I made for you."

The odd change in subject barely left his lips before the line was dropped.

Dick wasn't hungry.

In fact, he rarely ate anything in the mornings. He surmised it was because he was usually still coming down from patrol by the time standard breakfast hours rolled around, and he's not in the mood for runny eggs when a few hours ago he was busting skulls. Although that didn't diminish the simple pleasure of a bowl of cereal after dark.

So why was he going into the kitchen?

The noise at the back of his mind had been an imperceptible din mere moments ago had grown to a great roar. Tim was reminding him of his place.

Invisible strings were tightly bound around his muscles and turned him into a living marionette. He was a construct, a hollowed version of himself with a painted-on face. His younger brother had written him a role that he was doomed to play. Free will was an illusion giving by a cruel master.

The strings forced him forward until he found pastries in a basket tied with ribbon. _Tim made these._ The voices said as it showed him a picture.

He could see the teen wearing an apron as he cooked, the fabric would be soft and feminine with a bow tied in the back. The flowered garment was a natural fit on his lithe body. He thought of pulling the ribbons taut and tying it for him. Tim was always so careful, measuring out cups of pristine flour to make treats for his beloved family. He loved them and forgave them for sending him away.

It was _home _and _love_ and _acceptance, _everything he ever wanted and all he had to go was _let go_.

Dick held his head as the pretty slice of their soon-to-be dollhouse life tried to blot out the ugly truths of it all. It told him that an ordinary accident hurt his knee, not a result of Jason defending his life from a madman. As horrible as the memories were, he had to hold on to them. It was only way to keep control over his sanity. His life was being rewritten.

He recalled what happened after he was knocked out in flashes, Tim had put two fingers in his mouth when he inserted a breathing tube. The unnerving feeling of metal tools digging into his head. He caught glimpses of the bed with the canopy.

Holding onto the torture kept the voices at bay, at least for now.

But he still couldn't stop himself as he poured himself a cup of coffee, his hands shook as he tore a muffin in half and started to eat. There were blueberry and lemon, they were his favorite and Alfred promised to make him a batch whenever the berries were in season. They would have been delicious if he was sure Tim wasn't poisoning him. Whatever taste they had was bogged down by diseased thoughts and origins.

He didn't even know if the mind-control would allow him to detect whatever chemical he tainted them with. They might be filled with broken glass for all he knew. The urge to spit it out was incredible but all he could manage was a gargled noise. Crumbs ran down his face and littered his shirt as he pulled pastry after pastry out of the basket. Struck with the sin of gluttony, he stuffed them into his face until there were none left.

He sat at the dining room table while the only sound was his stomach gurgling in protest. There were sharp pangs from his insides, muscles trying to contract and expel some of the sugared mush filling him to the point of bursting. He felt sick and ugly as the buzzing became a little louder. It told him how happy Tim would be if he saw him like this, gorged on his wonderful home cooking. The boy would laugh and say that he didn't need to eat the whole thing just to say that he liked it.

He pushed himself away from the table in disgust.

Half of it was from the act itself, the rest was hidden in his chest.

He was loved.


End file.
